


Needs Must

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Bondage, Bottom Phil Coulson, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, Light breathplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: "You can't order me to get laid, Nick,” Phil said, more resigned than angry.“I just did.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: At one point early in the story, Phil reassures Clint that he's not suicidal.
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"Your reaction times are down .8 of a second across the board, you've started straightening your tie several dozen times a day, and you look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in over a month." Nick Fury's face went even more stormy as Phil Coulson tried to interrupt his tirade. "But more important than any of that," Fury's voice dropped low and his expression softened. "I'm worried about my friend. How long has it been since you let yourself go?"

"It's not as simple as that, Nick, and you know it."

"I know it's not easy, especially for you, Phil. But you need to fix this before you become a danger in the field. To yourself, and your team."

Phil tried to hide the twitch of his face at the mention of his team, but he knew Fury had seen it anyway.

"I hate to do this, but you've left me no choice. You're on suspension until further notice."

"You can't order me to get laid, Nick,” Phil said, more resigned than angry.

“I just did.”

~~~~~~

When Phil got back to his office there was a large SHIELD Level 6 'Eyes Only' envelope on his desk. Phil knew better than to hope it was a new mission. Sure enough when he broke the seal there was another plain brown envelope inside, also sealed, with Fury's spiky handwriting across the front:

_Open this when you get home._

Phil threw the envelope into his briefcase and locked up his office. He'd known Nick Fury for twenty years. Long enough to know that he wasn't going to get out of this easily. If only because Phil had to admit to himself that Nick was right; it had been too long, and he was wound up tighter than a drum. He needed to let go.

At home he stripped off his tie and jacket, undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and got a bottle of scotch from his liquor cabinet. He had the feeling that whatever was in the envelope, he was going to want a drink to go with it. He put the bottle on the coffee table and sat down in the sofa.

The first things he slid out of the envelope were a fake passport and driver's license and Phil hoped for a second that this was a mission after all. But no, Nick wouldn't have told him to open it at home if... The next thing was a large, glossy brochure for what appeared to be an inn, of sorts. The brochure had pictures of sumptuous bedrooms and well-appointed bathrooms with extra large tubs and shower stalls. 

The descriptions of the facilities included ' _a number of themed rooms are available_ ' and ' _all rooms are fully stocked with a wide variety of supplies_ '. The inn also hosted ' _monthly cocktail mixers_ ' at which attendance was ' _strictly by invitation only_ ' and at which ' _all guests are thoroughly vetted_ '. 

The other two items in the envelope were a gold embossed invitation to the club's cocktail mixer, tomorrow night, and a letter of introduction. Nick had arranged his attendance at an elegant, high-end, and no doubt very discrete BDSM sex club.

Phil stared at the documents in his hands, and considered the implications of actually using them. He imagined showering and shaving carefully, dressing in one of his best suits, and driving out to this... inn. He imagined presenting his gold-embossed invitation, letter of introduction, and false ID to a tall, elegant Madam.

He imagined being shown into a large, tastefully decorated reception room full of people and being handed a glass of decent Champagne. He imagined being... considered, evaluated by the other guests. 

He imagined someone coming over to him, making polite conversation, and then assessing mutual interest and compatibility. He imagined following this ' _thoroughly vetted_ ' someone to one of the inn's ' _fully stocked_ ' rooms. He imagined being asked for his safe-word. He imagined being ordered to strip, and kneel. He imagined being touched. Being fucked. By a complete stranger. 

He threw the papers across the room, picked up the bottle of scotch, and left his apartment.

~~~~~~

Clint Barton opened the door of his apartment and found Phil Coulson standing there in his suit pants and dress shirt, but no jacket. Tieless, collar undone, sleeves shoved up past his elbows, looking... well, looking pretty shitty. With a bottle of whisky in his hand.

"Uh, Phil, hi. Come on in. What's up?"

Phil sat on Clint's battered thrift-store sofa and put the bottle down on the equally battered coffee table.

"I need to get drunk, and I don't want to do it by myself," Phil said, which was part of the truth, anyway. 

"What happened?" Clint had almost asked 'Who died?' Because it had to be something that serious for Phil to be this badly off. 

"Fury put me on suspension."

"Shit! Why?"

Phil shook his head. Instead of answering, he picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cap.

"Do you have a glass?"

"Yeah, 'course. Gimme a sec." Clint was back a minute later with a coffee mug in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other. "Uh, as it turns out I don't have any clean glasses. Is this okay?" he asked, handing over the coffee mug. 

Phil accepted the mug and poured an inch of scotch into the bottom of it.

"I, uh..." Clint sat down next to Phil and took a long pull on his beer. "Look, you know I'd do anything for you, right?" He'd never said it before, not in so many words, but they'd fought together and bled together and saved each other's lives so many times that Clint figured Phil knew. But maybe now was the time to actually say the words. "I mean if you need me to kill somebody for you, or whatever. Just tell me what you need... anything."

"You're a good friend, Clint." Phil took a gulp of his whiskey, but Clint's keen eyes could see how much was still left in the cup. It was as if Phil wanted to drink, but was having trouble making himself actually do it. There was something so very off about this whole situation. 

"It's been an honor working with you," Phil said suddenly.

"Okay Phil, now you're scaring me."

"Don't worry I'm not suicidal." Phil's words were calm and even, but he was looking down at where he was cradling his mug in his hands.

"Good. That's good." But Clint put his beer on the table. He wasn't going to drink any more of it until he had some idea of what the hell was going on. "Talk to me, Phil, please. Tell me what's going on. Tell me what you need."

"What I need." Phil let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "If I could tell you what I need‑" he stopped and shook his head, then stood up abruptly. "This was mistake. I shouldn't have come here. Keep the bottle."

Clint was on his feet in a flash and grabbed Phil's arm.

"Phil, don't go. Please. I'll stop pushing you. I'll shut up, I promise. Just stay, please?"

Phil felt the warmth of Clint's hand on his bare arm like fire, and he wanted to wrap himself around it; draw it in to warm the cold dark place in his chest. Maybe...

"Why did you come here, Phil?" Clint asked softly.

"I told you, because I didn't want to get drunk alone."

"You have other friends, Phil. Why me?"

"Because I trust you. Right now I trust you more than I trust myself."

"Then trust me, Phil. Sit down, please."

Phil sat and Clint sat with him. Clint's hand was still on his arm as if he was afraid that Phil would change his mind and bolt. 

"Clint," Phil turned and whatever he was going to say vanished from his head. Clint was looking at him with concern and affection, his face so open, so... "Clint," Phil said again, his voice now low and rough. He brought his hand up to cradle Clint's face and stroked his thumb along Clint's cheekbone, once. Clint started to rub his arm gently.

Phil leaned in slowly, giving Clint plenty of time to back off or deflect, but Clint did neither. He just waited. The touch of lips was soft. Phil paused, waited, and then kissed Clint again. This time Clint kissed back, mouth slightly open in invitation. Phil wanted to delve in, to bury himself in Clint's warmth and the comfort he was offering, but after a few more gentle kisses he forced himself to pull back.

"Is this... Can we do this?" Phil asked.

"This what you need?"

"Yes." It wasn't a lie, not quite. If he could somehow let Clint know that he liked it... rough. If he could get Clint to be forceful with him, and if he could encourage Clint to fuck him hard. Really, really hard - it would take the edge off, at least. It might even be enough that he would be able to convince Fury to let him go back to work. 

Clint had grinned and leaned in for another kiss at Phil's 'yes'. Phil kissed him back, deeply, filthily, pulling Clint closer and letting his hands roam. Clint responded enthusiastically and crawled onto his lap, straddling Phil's thighs with knees that dug into the sofa cushions. Phil slid his hands up Clint's back, taking his t-shirt with them and Clint drew back just long enough to pull it off. Phil mouthed at Clint's neck and cradled his ass, kneading the firm muscles and pulling Clint in tighter so that he could thrust their groins together.

Clint responded by sliding one hand into Phil's hair and gripping; lightly, but firmly enough to make Phil moan and arch.

"You like that?" Clint asked, tugging a little on the fine strands.

"Yes. Oh god, yes." It had been so long since he'd had anything like this, and it felt so good... so damn good. Phil was moaning and thrusting his hips up into Clint's solid weight above him. Clint tugged his hair again, and settled more of his weight on Phil's lap, pinning him.

Phil let out a strangled gasp.

"You like that too, huh?" Clint was nuzzling his along Phil's jaw and nipping lightly with his teeth. "What else do you like? Tell me so I can give it to you, Phil." Another, slightly harder tug on his hair. "Tell me what you need."

If he could tell Clint... If Clint would...

"I need... " Phil gasped, "I need to let go."

Clint took his mouth in a hard kiss, thrusting his tongue deep into Phil’s mouth. He thrust his hips down, grinding two hard, trapped cocks together. He put his other hand in Phil's hair and gripped tightly with both. 

"Let go of what, Phil?"

He could tell Clint. Clint would understand, or at least not freak out. Not think less of him for it. He trusted Clint. He could say it. Just one word. Phil focused on the feel of Clint's weight pinning him to the sofa. On the heat of Clint's body and the insistent hardness he could feel pulsing against his own. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the delicious little sparks of pain where Clint's fingers were clenched in his hair.

Phil Coulson took a deep breath, trying to calm his hammering heart. But when he spoke, the word nevertheless came out as a strangled whisper. "Control."

Phil's eyes were closed. He didn't want to see horror or pity reflected in Clint's. The tight hold on his hair didn't let up, but he felt a soft, tender kiss. Then a gentle whisper in his ear. 

"You need a break from being in charge," Clint said, his voice full of compassion and understanding. "From making the hard decisions. From being responsible for everyone and everything."

"Yes," Phil whispered.

"Do you want me to be in charge, Phil? Do you want me to give the orders, to tell you what to do?"

"Yes. Yes, please." Phil's answer was a desperate whisper.

"Open your eyes. Look at me." He did, to find Clint's grey-green eyes staring into his own. "You need to tell me how far you want to take this, Phil."

"I... " He tried. He couldn't.

"Phil, do you want me to dominate you?"

Rather than the 'Yes' that he wanted to scream, Phil forced himself to ask "Have you... done it before?"

"A little. From both sides. Enough to know that I should be asking you for your safe-word."

"Vibranium," Phil answered quickly. 

"You are such a geek sometimes." But Clint's voice held so much fondness that it made Phil's heart ache. If only he could have someone like Clint. Someone who respected him and understood him and cared about him the way Clint seemed to. 

"Okay, here are the rules: I'm going to ask you questions and you're going to answer them honestly. Nothing work-related, nothing above my security clearance, I promise. If you don't answer, or you call safe-word, then we stop and we figure out some other way for me to help you. Clear?"

"Yes," Phil said, absurdly grateful that Clint had some experience with this.

"Yes what?"

Phil blinked. He couldn't... Clint would understand that he had never... He didn't... He... "Yes, Sir." 

"Good." One of Clint's hands disentangled from his hair and stroked his cheek. "You're going to be good for me, aren't you? You're going to be good for me and I'm going to give you what you need. You're not going to have to make any decisions, you're not even going to have to think. Just feel. Just relax and let go of everything and let yourself feel."

Clint's words washed over him, soothing and exciting him at the same time. He needed this. He needed it so much. How had he managed to go so long without it?

"Yes, Sir," Phil said in a breathy whisper.

"Bondage: yes or no?"

"Yes. Please, yes."

Clint gave a low chuckle. "All right then, put your arms out along the top of the sofa."

Phil obeyed quickly, and Clint's hands moved to his biceps, long strong fingers wrapping around firmly and gripping solidly. Phil let out a small sigh. He could feel himself starting to sink, just from this. Just from being pinned, held by someone he trusted. 

"Is that okay?" Clint asked.

"It's good. So good." Phil's brain-to-mouth filter was breaking down. Clint chuckled again and leaned in to kiss him, deep and hot and wet and... Phil whimpered a little when Clint pulled back.

"Pain: yes or no?"

"Yes."

But Clint must have seen something in his eyes. "It's not a simple 'yes' though, is it? Talk to me, Phil. Tell me what you like, and tell me what you don't want. "

"I like scratches and bites and bruises from..." Phil swallowed. "From your hands. I don't like... implements."

"This is very personal for you, isn't it?" Clint said, leaning in to nuzzle at Phil's jaw and whisper in his ear. "Very intimate."

"Yes. Yes, Sir," Phil whispered back.

"I'm going to keep you safe, Phil. I promise." Clint nuzzled the sensitive skin below his ear a moment more and Phil shivered. Clint pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, and then kissed him softly. "I won't be able to hit you. No slapping or spanking or anything like that."

Phil nodded. "I understand." Phil hoped that he managed to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He did understand, that with Clint's background...

"The idea of biting you, however, is extremely hot." Clint thrust with his hips, grinding their groins together for emphasis. Phil bucked under him and Clint tightened his grip on Phil's arms. Phil moaned. 

Clint leaned in and nuzzled the spot below Phil's ear again. "Can I leave marks?"

"Yes. Ohgodpleaseyes." Phil gasped. The thought of wearing the imprints of Clint's teeth on his skin - perhaps for days... He wanted that. And besides, the calculating part of his brain reminded him, it would be 'proof' for Fury. 

Then all thought disappeared out of his mind as he felt Clint pinching with sharp, strong teeth. The pain was delicious and perfect. Phil flexed his biceps, not in any effort to get free but to feel Clint's hands on him, holding him immobile. Clint sucked hard on the skin between his teeth and Phil could imagine the bruise that he was raising, red and livid. He moaned. Clint started to rock against him in slow, sinuous waves, rubbing their hard cocks together through his suit pants and Clint's jeans, ratcheting up his arousal and his need.

Clint's teeth left his skin and Phil could feel the throbbing bruise they had made. He opened his eyes to find Clint staring into them, as if he was searching for something. 

"I want to see you." Clint said, and backed off. Phil fought the whimper as Clint climbed out of his lap and off the sofa. "Stand up, and take your clothes off. All of them. I want to see."

Phil swallowed and pushed himself off the sofa with shaky hands. Clint had seen him naked before. They'd been in Medical and decontamination showers and stripped by bad guys often enough... But this was different. This was Clint demanding that Phil expose himself. Clint, who was standing there in jeans, bare feet and shirtless, his eyes sparkling and a small smile curving his lips. 

"Yes, Sir," Phil said, and unbuttoned his shirt. 

As he tugged the tails of his shirt out of his pants, and then started to unbutton his cuffs, Phill felt his ears burning. The blush spread to his face, and by the time he'd shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and slid his arms out of the sleeves, he knew that his chest and neck were bright red as well. Clint's face didn't show any hint of amusement, he just watched. Phil sucked in a breath and dropped his hands to his belt buckle, then changed his mind and sat down in the sofa.

He leaned over, untied his shoes, and slid them off, then removed his socks and tucked them neatly into one shoe before standing back up. He looked Clint square in the eye as he unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the loops, so he saw Clint's eyes track the belt as he dropped it on the sofa next to his shirt. Clint's tongue peeped out to wet his bottom lip, in a tell that Phil filed away for later. Clint's eyes were back on him now as he unbuttoned and unzipped and slid his pants off, folding them neatly on the sofa as he had done with his shirt.

The blush was fading. He was doing as he'd been told. It was going to be okay. Clint was going to give him what he needed. He was obeying. He stepped out of his boxers and added them to the pile, then clasped his hands behind his back in an unconscious parade-rest. He kept his chin high, but his eyes on Clint's face.

Clint smiled, his eyes twinkling, and then slowly and deliberately dropped his eyes, taking in everything there was to see.

"Nice," he said when his eyes made it back up to Phil's face. "Very nice." 

Phil's jaw tightened. He didn't like humiliation, but he hadn't thought he needed to tell Clint that. He hadn't thought Clint would go there, would...

"Phil, I'm not teasing you. You're in great shape." Clint took a step forward so that they were close, but not touching.

"For a man of my age," Phil said.

"For a man of any age. I think you're gorgeous. And not just because of this, I've thought that for a long time. I've thought about you, about your body, before now. I've wanted to do this since the mission in Florence," Clint said, and raised his hands and slid his fingers into the dark wiry hair on Phil's chest. 

Phil bit back a moan at the touch of Clint's hands. He stiffened a bit, expecting Clint to tighten his grip, but Clint just rubbed his fingers through Phil's chest hair and then scratched lightly at the skin, exploring the contours of Phil's pecs with his nails. Phil tried to remember the Florence mission; there had been a bomb, and he'd dived into a fountain with it to stop it from detonating...

Clint had stepped closer; their bare chests were pressed together now and Clint's hands were mapping the planes of Phil's back. Clint's jeans were rubbing against Phil's erect cock. Clint's breath was hot on his ear.

"I meant it earlier, when I said I'd do anything for you," Clint said softly. "I'd lie or cheat or kill for you, if you asked me to. I'd let you fuck me, if that's what you needed. Because you're my friend. But I need you to know that I'm not just doing this out of friendship. I've thought about this. About sucking your cock, or you fucking me. Thought about your hands on me, or mine on you." Clint had moved around to Phil's back, and was whispering the words into his ear. One hand slid across his chest, rubbing at his nipples and the other moved down to his groin. Clint's arms tightened, and Phil leaned back with a sigh, letting Clint take his weight.

"That's it, that's good," Clint murmured as he cupped Phil's hard, aching dick in one strong, warm hand. "Just let me do this for you. Let me give you what you need." Clint's lips moved from Phil's ear down to his jaw and mouthed at the skin before taking it in his teeth and biting and sucking another mark. 

Phil fought to stay still in Clint's hold as the long, strong fingers worked his cock and his nipples, and Clint's hot mouth marked him. He moaned. 

Abruptly, Clint stepped back, grabbing Phil by the hair to steady him. "On your knees," Clint ordered, with a solid yank to get him moving. Phil folded himself down and winced as his kneecaps took his weight on the hard floor.

"Hands behind your back." 

Phil put his hands behind him, grabbing his left wrist in his right hand to anchor them there. He drew a long breath in through his nose, trying to calm his hammering heart.

Clint's other hand was on his own fly, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, and then pushing them down over his hips. It didn't surprise Phil at all to see that Clint wasn't wearing any underwear. Clint took himself in hand. "Open your mouth."

Phil wanted to say 'Thank you,' but did as he was told and opened wide. Clint's hand in his hair urged his head forward. "Suck me." Clint's voice was low and gravelly and Clint's eyes on him were watchful. Phil leaned forward and drew Clint's cock into his mouth with eager lips and tongue. He fought to keep his eyes open so that he could enjoy the sight of Clint looking down at him as he inched the thick, heavy cock deep into his mouth. 

"That's it, that's good. Show me how much you can take."

Phil could take it all. It had been a long time, but he knew he could control his gag reflex well enough to take Clint's cock down his throat, if he could go slowly. And Clint seemed content to let Phil go at his own pace. So he bobbed a little, and swept the underside of the glans with his tongue before taking a little more. And then a little more. The scent of Clint's arousal was thick in his nose as he inched forward, letting the head of Clint's cock bump the back of his throat.

"God that's good. You're amazing." Clint was stroking his cheek, tracing Phil's lips where they were stretched around the base of his cock. Clint rocked his hips, dragging the head of his cock along the roof of Phil's mouth and then shoving back in. "Give me one of your hands." Phil unclenched his hold and held out his right hand. Clint put it on his own bare hip, and then slid his hands into Phil's hair, both gripping firmly.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth. If you need me to stop, tap out. Do it now to show me you understand."

Phil tapped Clint's bare hip twice in quick succession, as if they were sparring in the SHIELD gym rather having sex in Clint's living room. 

"Good." 

Clint dragged his cock slowly out of Phil's mouth then pushed just as slowly back in. Clint's hands in his hair gripped tight, giving him little points of pain to anchor himself. And he desperately needed the anchor. The feeling of being used, of being fucked. Of, for the first time in far too long, not being Senior Agent Phil Coulson of SHEILD, but simply being—was almost enough to make him fly apart into a million pieces. 

Clint's cock pressed deep into his throat, filling it completely. With anyone else, he would have had to fight down his instinctive responses and his training to map out vulnerabilities, to be ready to strike to free himself and run. But because it was Clint; Clint who he had long trusted with his life, and to whom he had just bared his soul. Clint who he deeply cared for, and who cared about him. Clint who was doing this for him... Because it was Clint he could let himself relax completely, let go of his guard, let himself sink deeply into the sensations, and simply take it. Take Clint's cock in his throat.

"You're beautiful." Clint's voice from above him sounded far away. "So fucking gorgeous." It also sounded deep and rough. The thrusts into his mouth came a little faster now, and a little rougher. Phil could taste the bitterness that started to leak onto his tongue.

"Yeah. Oh yeah," Clint moaned breathlessly, thrusting harder, faster. Taking.

Phil let his mind go completely blank. There was no thought, only sensation. Clint's hip, warm and slightly damp under his palm. The rich scent of Clint's sweat in his nose. The bitter taste on his tongue. And the drag of Clint's cock as it slid in and out of his throat.

Clint's legs trembled and his hands clenched even more tightly, dragging Phil forward onto his cock. Clint's fingers pressed hard into the back of his skull and he felt hot pulses hitting the back of his throat. Phil swallowed reflexively again and again while above him Clint cried out.

"Fuck. Yes." 

Just as Phil started to get lightheaded from lack of oxygen, the pressure on his head eased. One of Clint's hands disentangled itself from his hair and stroked his cheek instead. It was only then that Phil became aware of the dampness on his face.

"Hey," Clint said, drawing his hips back to slide his softening cock out of Phil's mouth. "You okay?" he asked, wiping at Phil's tears with his thumb.

Phil couldn't imagine speaking yet so he just nodded and tried to smile with lips that felt stretched and puffy.

"So fucking beautiful, Phil," Clint said, and when another tear slid down his cheek, Clint pulled him close, tucking his head against one muscular thigh and stroking his face. "I've got you. You're okay. That was amazing, Phil. You were amazing."

Clint continued to pet him for another minute, then tipped his face up to look down into his eyes.

"Do you want to continue?"

Phil nodded.

"I need more than that, Phil. I need to hear you say it."

"Yes," Phil said but it came out as a croak. He cleared his throat, feeling rawness at the back. "Yes, please," he said more clearly this time. "I'd like to continue, Sir."

"Good. Stand up," Clint said and gave a tug on his hair to get him moving, then let go. Phil climbed to his feet and settled unconsciously into a parade-rest stance again.

Clint smiled. "Stay there." He stepped back and shoved his jeans down from where they were still bunched around his thighs. He stepped out of them and tossed them onto the sofa.

"God look at you, standing there, ready to do anything I tell you. You're fucking perfect Phil." Clint stepped in close and lay his hands on Phil's chest, fingers splayed wide. "I can't believe I get to have this." He said, slowly stroking down Phil's chest to his stomach. He wrapped one hand around Phil's hard cock and stroked it lightly. "I'm going to take such good care of you." He whispered, leaning in close so that his lips brushed Phil's cheek.

Clint's lips trailed from his cheek to the tender skin just below the hinge of his jaw. Phil couldn't help but make a small noise of anticipation. He could feel Clint's smile against his skin. 

Clint kissed softly, then nibbled, worrying at the spot with lips and little nips of his teeth. All the while he continued to slowly stroke Phil's achingly hard cock.

It was a shock when Clint bit down hard and started to suck on the bit of skin between his teeth, one that dragged a moan out of Phil. 

God he needed this. He needed it so damn much. Clint's other hand slid into his hair and gripped again, adding to Phil's pleasure. To be used like this. To be passive and acted upon. To have no will, no plan, no thoughts, nothing but pure sensation...

Clint's mouth left his neck, Clint's hand left his cock, and Clint's hand tightened painfully in his hair. "None of that," Clint said, and only then did Phil realize that he had been unconsciously thrusting his cock into Clint's hand. 

Clint let go of his hair and stepped away.

"Bend over and touch your toes."

Phil did. One warm hand rested on the small of his back for a moment, then both of Clint's hands cupped his buttocks and spread them wide. Phil fought to keep his breathing steady. A dull ache started in his hamstrings. He was in decent shape, but...

A feather-light touch on the pucker of his asshole made him gasp.

"Nice," murmured Clint. "Very nice."

The light touch became firm pressure and Phil moaned. His hard-on was jabbing him in the solar plexus, smearing sticky fluid onto his own chest.

The pressure increased and the tip of Clint's finger breached him adding a slight burn to the sensations that were threatening to overwhelm him. "Please." It came out as a desperate moan. Phil clenched his teeth against the humiliating pleas that threatened to spill out. 'Please fuck me. Shove me down and take me. Tear me open. Make me feel it. Make me feel you. Take me.' 

"You want it, don't you." Clint's voice was a low growl and Phil answered without thought.

"Yes, Sir."

"How long has it been?"

Phil didn't want to answer, didn't want to admit to the truth. But Clint had been very clear what the rules were. Questions about his sex life he had to answer.

"Three years," he said, forcing himself to speak plainly.

Clint's only reaction was a hum and a firmer press on his hole. Clint's finger suddenly felt huge pushing into him.

"You like it hard? When I fuck you, I mean, do you want me to fuck you hard?"

Phil could feel the burn now of being penetrated dry by one of Clint's fingers. "Yes," he sobbed. "Please, Sir yes."

"You like it rough. You want it to hurt a little."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Phil wasn't prepared for that question and the answer came spilling out unbidden. "I want - I need to be overwhelmed. So that I can't think. So that everything else just goes away and there's nothing but sensation and I don't have to do anything but be and feel and there's nothing else but... But what you're doing to me and I can't stop you. I just have to take it just take it and feel and there's nothing else just... Just -" his words faltered.

"Just what Phil? Tell me so that I can give you what you need when I tie you down and fuck you hard."

Phil was shaking with need now. "Peace."

Clint moved in close so that his thighs were touching the backs of Phil's. One of Clint's hands left his ass and slid smoothly, comfortingly up his spine. The pressure on his hole eased, then disappeared. 

"Stand up for me now," Clint said, urging with gentle hands on Phil's sides. 

Phil straightened up, grateful for the easing of the strain on his hamstrings. His head swam a little, but Clint was holding him close with one arm tight around his chest and the other cupping his balls and squeezing them lightly.

Clint kissed the side of his neck, then bit down on his shoulder. Soothing pain and another point of contact, another tight, firm hold anchoring him.

"That's it," Clint released the bite and murmured into his ear. "Just relax. I've got you. You're safe. I've got you."

Safe. He was safe. In Clint's arms. In Clint's care. Phil relaxed, letting himself sink into the sensation of being held. Being here, in this moment and not having to worry about anything else. His arousal was a hot ball of want and need in his belly, his cock hard and aching, his balls tight and sore, his ass sensitive... Wanting. Wanting to be pried open. To be stretched. To be filled. Wanting it so much.

"Sir," the word coming easily from his mouth now, "I... When I came here tonight, I didn't expect... I'm not ah, prepared." Phil could feel himself blushing.

Clint bit down harder on his shoulder and hummed, then released his grip. "Turn around." 

Phil did, and Clint's hands were back in his hair gripping hard and Clint's mouth was on his, kissing fiercely. Phil stood there and allowed his mouth to be plundered by Clint's insistent tongue. 

"Kissing you is amazing. Fucking you is going to be too. Go take a shower. You should find everything you need in the bathroom. If not, call me. It will give me time to get some things ready." There was a wicked gleam in Clint's eyes. "And Phil, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this," Clint reached down and gave Phil's erection a sharp squeeze. "Is off limits to you."

Clint released him and stepped back.

Phil forced himself to turn and head for the bathroom. He'd stayed over at Clint's place a couple of times before, so he found everything he needed easily enough, including the shower attachment which was in the cupboard under the sink. 

He adjusted the water and climbed in. 'Best get this over with first,' he thought, and set about cleaning himself out thoroughly. The feel of the wand penetrating his ass and the sensation of fullness as the water rushed in only made him harder, aching for release. But he needed a different kind of release more. The kind Clint could give him by controlling him utterly.

Phil was quick and efficient with the rest of his shower, using Clint's bar of plain white soap and unscented shampoo. He turned off the water and scrubbed dry before stepping out of the tub.

~~~~~~

When he stepped out of the bathroom Clint's apartment was dark. Phil could see the alarm's 'armed' light blinking near the door. Everything was quiet and still, and soft light spilled from the bedroom door.

Phil walked into the bedroom and paused. Clint had lit a half-dozen mismatched candles and placed them on the bedside table and dresser. As Phil's eyes adjusted he saw an array of items spread out on the bed.

"Come here," Clint said, his voice low and gravelly in a way that Phil had never heard before. He had to fight a desire to drop to his knees and crawl to Clint's side. 

"Do you have a problem with anything here? I need you to be completely honest with me Phil," Clint said, reaching up and taking Phil by the back of the neck and squeezing.

Phil still wanted to drop to his knees, but instead he made himself look at the items on the bed. Several coils of rope, climbing grade, in black and purple. The black was SHIELD issue, the purple Clint must have bought himself. For climbing, or for... something like this? There were two butt plugs, one medium-sized and one larg-ish. A dildo that looked like it probably had a vibrate function. A leather cock-ring with silver snaps. A couple of black squares of cloth that it took Phil a moment to recognize as the bandanas that Clint tied over his blond hair when they were doing covert work at night. Phil pointed at them.

"What, ah... What are those for?"

"I was thinking blindfold or gag. Problem with either of those? If I gag you I'll make sure you can tap out or signal."

"Gag's okay. Blindfold I... I don't know."

"Then it won't happen. Phil, look at me," Clint put two fingers under Phil's chin and turned his head.

"I swear to you it won't happen. I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with. I want to make this good for you; give you what you need."

"Thank you," the words came out as a hoarse whisper and Phil felt his hears burning in shame.

"Come here." Clint wrapped him up in his arms, holding him close, and tight. "I care about you so much, Phil. I want to do this right for you." Clint kissed him deeply, then turned him around again. "Bend over. Hands on the mattress." 

Clint picked up a bottle of lubricant and the smaller of the two butt plugs off the bed. Much as he loved the idea of being forced open, Phil was relieved. He felt the cool slippery nudge at his hole and tried to relax as much as possible. The plug slipped in partway, and then the burning stretch started and he gasped. Clint's free hand snaked under his chest and started to toy with Phil's nipple. It was almost enough.

"Take, Phil. Take it for me. So that when I'm ready to fuck you later, all I'll have to do is pull it out so I can bury myself inside this gorgeous tight ass of yours."

Phil moaned, but the burn was too sudden, too much. His muscled clenched up and try as he might to relax, he couldn't. Clint's fingers on his nipple tightened and then twisted viciously. Phil gasped and cried out both at the pain in his nipple and the stretch in his ass as Clint pushed the plug home. Then Clint's warm strong hand was on the back of his neck again, gripping tightly. 

"Stand up. Face me."

Phil did, wincing as the plug in his ass shifted.

"I need you to tell me the truth, Phil. Was that too much?"

"No, God no. It was good. I need... I..."

"Come here." Clint pulled Phil close, still holding him by the back of the neck, and wrapped his other arm around Phil's waist, his hand on the end of the plug.

"You've told me you need to loose control. You've said you want me to fuck you hard. I can do that for you Phil, and I will." As Clint spoke he pulled the plug part-way out of Phill's ass and then shoved it back in, fucking him roughly with it. "But if there's something else you need, something you haven't told me about yet, I need to know, Phil. So I can give it to you."

The plug continued to ream his ass and Clint's hand was warm on his neck, squeezing tight and anchoring him.

"I need... I just need you to..." Phil squeezed his eyes shut tight. "I trust you Clint. To... use me." 

"Okay, Phil. Okay." Clint shoved the plug in firmly. "On the bed, on your back," he said, stepping away and breaking contact for the first time since Phil had entered the bedroom. Phil clenched his teeth to stop himself from whining at the loss and climbed onto the bed as he was told, gasping as the plug moved inside him. 

"In the middle, arms out to the sides." Clint had picked up a coil of rope and Phil was pretty sure he knew what was coming next. Despite the stretch in his ass and the ache of his hard cock, he relaxed a little as Clint moved to sit on the bed at his elbow. Clint took his hand and raised it to his lips, planting a soft kiss in his palm, and Phil shivered.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir. Please."

Clint was quick and sure with the rope, looping it over and over and securing the loops with knots until there was a wide cuff of rope that reached from Phil's wrist half-way to his elbow. It was snug, but not tight, and it felt good. To be tied in Clint's rope, by Clint's hands. To feel Clint's long, strong fingers working carefully to tie him securely, safely. To watch his face as he worked, the set of Clint's forehead in concentration so familiar, so reassuring, and so comforting. 

The knots were tied. Clint lifted Phil's hand and kissed his palm again, this time teasing the base of Phil's thumb with his tongue before nipping sharply with his teeth. Phil just sighed. 

Clint kissed the spot. "Okay?"

"Good. So good."

Clint used the long tails of rope he'd left to tie Phil's arm to the bed frame.

Clint tied his other arm with the same attention and care, and so that Phil was stretched out, spread wide for Clint. Who was straddling him, his knees tucked in tightly next to Phil's hips and his hands back on Phil's biceps, squeezing tight and holding him down. Phil was starting to float. Being tied and held, Clint's half-hard cock brushing his own painfully hard length, and being kissed. Clint was plundering his mouth again, tongue stuffed deep into Phil's mouth, almost as deep as his cock had been, earlier. Phil relaxed and floated, able to let go, to surrender completely, to simply be, and take; for the first time in far, far too long.

Phil knew he was moaning into the kiss and bucking up a little with his hips, his body looking for release, but those things felt far away from him. He was safe and calm, wrapped in Clint's ropes.

Clint's mouth left his and Clint's lips and teeth were on his throat again, kissing and licking then biting hard. The point of pain was perfect, letting him slip deeper into the soft warm darkness where there was no thought, no responsibility, only wave upon wave of pleasure. Phil heard himself moan. 

His eyes were closed. He was warm and safe. Tied and held. Clint was kissing, licking, and biting his way down Phil's body. Phil pulled on the ropes that tied his arms to the bed to feel them. To feel the bite of the rope into his skin. To feel safe. 

Clint was sucking a mark into his inner thigh. It felt incredible. He could feel the heat of Clint's breath on his balls and he started to babble, feeling the euphoria of freedom as he let himself say all the things that had been bottled up inside for so long.

"So good, Clint. So good. You make me feel so good. You're so beautiful. I've always loved looking at you. At your body. So strong. Never let myself hope for this. For you. Didn't think there was any chance. But it's perfect, Clint. Perfect. Exactly what I need. Needed for so long." And then he screamed as Clint's hot wet mouth engulfed his aching cock.

His hips bucked up reflexively and Clint's hands were on his hips, holding him down hard. So hard it hurt, and he knew he'd have bruises the next morning. Bruises that would remind him of this, that it had been real. That Clint had done this for him. Given him this.

"Thank you," he sobbed as Clint took his cock all the way onto his throat and swallowed around it. "So good, Clint. So fucking good." 

Phil could feel Clint's chuckle on his cock, and Clint's mouth slipped off. Phil opened his eyes to see Clint looking up at him, grinning. 

"Hearing you talk dirty is so hot, Phil. I can't wait to fuck you hard and make you scream on my cock."

"Fuck, Clint. Sir, please. Please."

"Soon," Clint said, and sat back on his heels and picked up another bundle of rope.

~~~~~~

Phil was floating. His sense of time had disappeared completely and he had no idea if it had been minute or hours since Clint tied his legs. His calves were lashed to his thighs, then ropes ran from his knees to his elbows, holding him spread open for Clint. The ropes held him, letting him relax and be. Be the instrument that Clint's talented fingers and mouth was playing him; drawing sounds out of him.

Phil had long ceased to worry about what he was saying. It made Clint happy to hear him swear, to hear him moan and beg, so he made no effort to stop the words and sounds spilling out of his mouth. He felt so free. 

"You're gorgeous like this," Clint was saying between kisses to his lips, his eyelids, his cheeks. "So open and ready for me."

"For you, Sir," Phil said. "Just for you. I'm yours. Please. Please take me."

"Soon," Clint said, and drew back. His hand went to the base of the plug in Phil's ass, and Phil moaned as Clint rocked it, the rubber nudging his prostate and making his aching cock leak. 

"Please, please Clint. I need it, please." Phil didn't know how long Clint had been fucking him with the dildo, pushing it slowly into his ass and then dragging it out again. He didn't know how long he'd been begging for release. Clint's fingers pinched his nipples, stroked lightly around the crown of his cock, scratched at his balls. 

"I need you to fuck me, Sir, please. I want your cock. Please, I need to come. Fuck me, give me your cock. Pound me. Use me. Make me feel it. Please, Clint, please." There were tears leaking out of his eyes, streaming down the sides of his face, but he didn't mind them. They felt good. Just like it felt good to moan and scream and beg. To have that release. To let go of the control he lived with every minute of every day. 

"Soon," Clint said, and took the dildo out, and found the lube and the other, larger butt plug, and worked it into Phil's ass. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me," Phil chanted as the plug split him open.

"Soon," Clint said, wrapping the cock ring around himself and snapping it on.

~~~~~~

Phil was at peace. His ass was stretched wide by the plug, his nipples ached from being pinched and twisted, he was tied tight, spread open, and Clint's cock was in his throat.

Clint was kneeling astride his ribs, one hand braced on the headboard, pushing his thick hard cock deep into Phil's throat.

"Keep your eyes open, Phil. That's an order. Look at me. I want so see you. I want to see this. Keep your eyes open, and look at me the whole time, understand?" Clint's voice was low and rough. Phil nodded as best he could. 

Clint threaded the fingers of his free hand through one of Phil's. "Squeeze twice if you need me to stop. Do it now so I know you understand."

Clint's voice seemed to be coming from far away, but he heard the instructions and followed them. He wouldn't need to stop. Clint had him. Clint had him and Clint was using him and it was good and perfect. But Phil squeezed, released, and squeezed again.

"Good. That's good. You're incredible, Phil. Taking it so well. So tight around my cock. So good for me. " 

Phil's ass was stretched around the thick plug. His lips were stretched around Clint's cock. He felt pried open. Exposed. It was perfect. 

Clint pulled out of his mouth and Phil made a small disappointed noise. 

Clint smiled at him. "Gonna fuck you now."

"That you, Sir," Phil said. His throat was raw from Clint's cock. He'd have that, too, tomorrow. Every time he swallowed he'd remember the taste and smell of Clint. The feeling of being filled.

Clint pinched his nipples again while he tugged the plug out, and the pain was perfect and wonderful. He wanted to beg for more, for Clint to bite him again, or pull his hair, but Clint was tossing the plug aside and rolling a condom on. Phil felt Clint crowding in close, leaning on his thighs pushing them higher and further apart. The strain in his groin was a delicious ache. 

"Yes," he moaned. "Please."

"Yeah," said Clint, and pushed in in one smooth, hard thrust. 

"Oh god, oh fuck, Clint. Yes. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, Sir." Phil was begging and babbling and he didn't care. He needed Clint to pound him. Fuck him. Use him hard.

Clint grabbed the ropes that strung his legs to the bed and wrapped them in his fists, drawing Phil up even tighter, bending him in half. He shifted his knees on the bed, settling his balance and then he began to fuck Phil in earnest, each stroke slamming into him with a fierce determination.

"Yes," Phil cried out. "Yes, yes, harder, yes!" As Clint pounded his ass mercilessly. 

The fire in his belly was growing more insistent as Clint's cock pushed against his prostate again and again. He wasn't going to be able to stop himself from coming for very much longer. "So good," he gasped out between Clint's punishing thrusts. "I'm so close, sir. I need to come. Please."

"You gonna come on my cock, Phil?"

"Yes, Sir. Please. Please let me come on your cock, Sir. Please."

"You've been so good. Go good, Phil." Clint stopped for a moment, let go of one of the ropes and reached under himself to unsnap the cock ring. Phil watched as Clint took a long slow breath in and out, then grabbed the ropes again and leaned forward. He kissed Phil hard, then pulled back.

"So fucking beautiful," he said softly, as if he was talking to himself. Then, "Okay, Phil. You can come now," and started to move again, thrusting hard and fast.

Phil's ass was sore and used. His throat ached and his thigh muscles trembled. His nipples felt like they were on fire. His cock throbbed. He held on for one more second, until he saw Clint's face change and his rhythm stutter, and then Phil let go, giving himself over to the pleasure that washed through him. His eyes slipped closed.

He felt Clint's hands on him. On his face. On his arms and legs. He heard Clint murmuring to him that he was beautiful and good. He felt the ropes loosen and his limbs relax. 

"Easy. Take it nice and slow. That's good. That's really good Phil. You were so good for me, Phil. You were perfect. Can you open your eyes for me now, babe?"

Phil wanted to stay in the comfortable warm darkness, but Clint had asked, so he pried his eyes open. 

"That's it, that's good. How are you doing?"

"Wunnerful," Phil said.

"Good. I'm glad." Clint stroked his cheek. "I know you probably don't want to move, but I need you to sit up for me and drink some of this, okay?"

Phil wanted to protest, but the bottle of water Clint was holding in front of his eyes suddenly looked like the most wonderful thing ever. Phil struggled to push himself up with weak arms and Clint's arm was around his back, easing up up into a sitting position. 

"There we go, that's it." Clint uncapped the bottle for him and held it to his lips. Phil drank greedily, the cool water feeling wonderfully soothing on his throat. He stopped when he'd finished half the water, though.

"You should drink too," he said, trying and failing to put some command into his voice. Clint squeezed him and smiled, then drank the rest of the water. As he turned to put the empty bottle down beside the bed, Phil nuzzled his face into Clint's shoulder. 

"Phil, are you sure you're okay?" Clint asked, holding him close and stroking his hair.

"Fine. M'good, really," Phil said, aware that tears were leaking out his his eyes and running down his face. "It was just so good, and it's been so long." Phil knew he wasn't making sense but he couldn't find the words to explain how good, how wonderfully freeing it was to have what he had needed for so long. How much lighter he felt, and how grateful he was to Clint for everything.

"I'm okay, really," he said, lifting a tear-stained face off Clint's shoulder and looking into his eyes to try to reassure him.

"Okay," Clint said, wiping Phil's cheek with his thumb and leaning in to kiss him softly. "How about you get some sleep now, though?"

Phil clutched at Clint, suddenly afraid that he wouldn't stay, but Clint soothed him with lips and hands and soft murmurs. "Hey, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll hold you all night, if you want."

"Please," Phil whispers, and this was different, this was new. He'd never needed that so desperately before. Usually the release was enough to ease his mind and his body, and once he was free after a scene, all he needed was to be wrapped in a warm blanket and left to sleep. 

But this time he wanted Clint. Needed Clint. Needed his presence, the familiar comforting smell of him, and the touch of warm skin. The strength of that need was disconcerting, but he was too tired to worry about it. Too tired to do anything except snuggle into Clint's arms, put his head on Clint's shoulder, and close his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered into the dark, wishing there was something else he could say, some other way to convey how much it had meant to him. He felt Clint's lips brush his forehead. 

"You're welcome, now go to sleep."

He did.

~~~~~~

Phil woke to the sun streaming through Clint's bedroom window with a dry mouth, an ache in his ass, and a fierce need to pee. He swallowed and then cleared his throat. "Clint?"

"Yeah. I'm awake. You okay?"

"I'm fine, but I need to get up and piss," Phil said, moving reluctantly away from Clint's warmth and out from under the covers. He padded naked to the bathroom and relieved himself, then glanced in the mirror. There were three large, red hickies on his neck, one of which even showed the faint imprints of Clint's teeth. Phil reached up to touch the mark and felt the faint strain in his bicep from tugging against the rope cuffs that Clint had bound him with. His nipples were sore, too. Red, he saw, looking in the mirror, and a little swollen. Phil looked down. His lower half was even more marked; his hips and lower abdomen were covered in bite marks and bruises, including two small round deep blue ones over each hip-bone where Clint's thumbs had pressed in, holding him down. 

Phil's cock twitched at the memory and he clenched his ass to feel the soreness there, too. No previous partner had ever... used him so completely. 'Probably because I've never been with anyone who knew me as well as Clint does,' Phil thought.

With one last glance in the mirror, Phil leaned down and drank from the bathroom tap, then splashed a little water on his face. He ran damp fingers through his hair, then squared his shoulders and walked back into the bedroom.

Clint was stretched with his hands behind his head, sheets thrown aside, unselfconsciously naked. He turned his head when Phil walked into the room and Phil saw his eyes widen. Clint sat up. 

"Are... are you okay? Did I go too far?"

"No," Phil said, moving to the side of the bed. "No, not at all. It's... it was great. Fantastic, all of it." Phil fought the blush that was threatening to rise in his cheeks and held Clint's piercing gaze. 

Clint nodded, apparently satisfied. "So, what now? Do we debrief, or awkwardly pretend it didn't happen?"

Phil laughed. "I think it would be better for us to talk, at least a little."

"Yeah. Uh, can I go first?"

"Of course," Phil said, surprised. He hadn't meant the should talk immediately, but if there was something Clint needed to say... He sat down cross-legged on the bed and rested his hands on his knees, trying to communicate an openness to whatever Clint wanted to discuss. 

Instead of speaking, however, Clint's eyes roamed his body again, starting at his face and neck, then drifting slowly down over his chest to his groin. Phil knew Clint was looking at the marks he'd made, and he fought the impulse to spread himself wider and invite Clint to touch.

"I... Last night was amazing, Phil." Clint's eyes were back on his own, and Phil could hear the roughness of emotion in Clint's voice. "I've done that kind of thing before a few times, but it was just for fun, you know? Last night, with you, it was... it felt different. Shit, I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense. I just... I just want to be sure that it was good for you, that it was what you needed, and to let you know that if you ever, I mean, if it happens again that... fuck." Clint blew out his breath. "Sorry, I..." Clint looked down.

"Clint," Phil gave in to the impulse to reach out and put his hand on Clint's arm. "It was exactly what I needed. You saw the state I was in when I got here last night. You know what I've been like at work lately. Fury was right to suspend me... I was putting other people at risk because I..." It was Phil's turn to blow out his breath. "Because I din't want to admit how much I needed to let go. There's no way I can thank you enough for what you did for me."

"But?" Clint said, and glanced away again.

"No. There's no 'but'. Last night was better than anything I've had in a very, very long time. And..." It was time for Phil to open up, to lay himself bare, because Clint deserved that. "And that's because I trust you, and I care about you. I was able to let go last night in a way that... I haven't ever been able to before. Clint, you made me feel so safe, so–" Phil had to stop and clear his throat before he could continue. "So cared for."

"I do care for you, Phil. A lot. I..." Clint stumbled to a halt again and Phil rubbed his thumb back and forth in small arcs on Clint's arm, trying to reassure and encourage. "God I want to kiss you so much right now," Clint said in a rush, then, "I'm sorry, I know I–"

Phil moved his hand from Clint's arm to the back of his neck, pulled him forward, and kissed him. Part of his mind knew that he shouldn't be doing this, that they should finish talking first, that they needed to figure out what was happing, what (if anything) this was going to be. But the moment the words were out of Clint's mouth, Phil's desires overtook his good sense. Clint wanted him, and he wanted Clint. His body was still sore and used from last night, but Phil wanted, oh god, he wanted Clint's hands and mouth on him. Wanted Clint's body against his. 

Phil leaned back and sank down onto the mattress, pulling Clint with him, onto him. Clint followed, bracketing Phil's shoulders with his hands and Phil's hips with his knees.

"God," Clint said when he finally pulled away from the kiss. "I can't get enough of you." Clint's eyes were staring down into his, shining bright. "You're so damn sexy, Phil. Competent, solid, strong, certain. I've always admired that about you, and been attracted by it. Been attracted to you."

Phil's eyes widened in surprise at that. Clint found him attractive and... sexy? 

Clint's expression softened. "Yeah, well, I never would've done anything or said anything, 'cause I didn't think you were interested. But Phil, having you under me last night, having you put your trust in me to help you, putting yourself in my hands and letting me take you the way I did. Having you moan and thrash and beg under me. Phil, that was the hottest thing I've every experienced in my entire life." Clint leaned in and kissed him again, softly. "So I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I want you, in any way you're interested in. If it's just for giving you what you need, when you need it, that's fine. But if there's anything else, if there's any chance you'd want to–"

Phil wanted. He wanted so much that he couldn't speak, couldn't form words. It was as if all his need, all his desperation from last night had been simply put on hold and now it slammed back into him. He pulled Clint back down and kissed him fiercely. His cock hardened and throbbed, the small soreness from last night's teasing only making his arousal sharper and sweeter. He bucked up into Clint's body, shamelessly rubbing himself against the warm expanse of bare skin.

"Fuck me. Please Clint. Please fuck me," he gasped when he pulled his mouth away again. "I want you so much. We'll talk more later. We'll figure out what this is, I promise. But right now, please just fuck me again."

"God. God, Phil," Clint gasped, and then was kissing him again, pressing down now and letting Phil take some of his weight, leaning on one elbow to free up his other hand, which he use to cup Phil's jaw as he thrust his tongue deep into Phil's mouth. 

Then his hand slid lower, ghosting over Phil's sore, swollen nipples. Phil bucked and moaned into Clint's mouth, and Clint pulled away.

"Don't stop. Fuck, please don't stop. Feels so good, Clint. So good."

Clint smiled wickedly at him and ducked his head, fastening his lips to one nipple and sucking lightly. 

Phil bucked again. "Yes. So fucking good. Make me feel it. Make me feel everything you did to me last night. Want it. Want you." Phil was babbling and begging but he didn't care. He just knew that he finally had what he'd needed for so long — someone he trusted and cared about to do this with. To give him this. To let him feel, and not think. To give his body what it so desperately needed, and by thereby doing, quiet his mind. 

Clint didn't seem to need any more encouragement. He sucked and licked and teased, using his free hand on Phil's other nipple, then his cock, then his balls. 

After long minutes, once Phil had relaxed completely under the onslaught, Clint stopped and looked up. "Hands behind your head," he said, and Phil nodded and complied. It was just enough. It was perfect. Phil gave himself over to the delicious torture of Clint's teeth nipping at every still-sore spot as he worked his way down Phil's body. Then the cap on the lube bottle snicked and Phil felt Clint's fingers probing between his asscheeks and brushing over his sore and exquisitely sensitive hole. He couldn't help but hiss though his teeth.

"Don't stop," Phil said when Clint's fingers stilled. "Please don't stop. It's good, I swear, Clint. It's good and I want it. Want to feel it like this. Please."

"Okay, I'll give you what you want," Clint said, staring down into Phil's face. He pushed in with two slick fingers and Phil almost sobbed in relief at the sensation. It hurt in that raw, open, vulnerable way that felt so good, so perfect.

"God you're beautiful like this, Phil. So fucking beautiful, laid open for me." Clint thrust deep with his fingers, finding the smooth round hardness of Phil's prostate and stroking it. 

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Clint." Phil's hands stayed firmly behind his head but he tilted his hips and spread his legs a little wider, chasing more sensation. 

"So gorgeous," Clint murmured, still stroking with his fingers. He was kneeling between Phil's legs, now and he wrapped the fingers of his free hand lightly around Phil's cock. "So many things I want to do to you, Phil," he said, stroking lightly so that the rough calluses on his fingertips dragged across the sensitive skin. "But not right now. Because seeing you like this is so fucking hot..." Clint didn't finish his sentence. Instead he withdrew his fingers and hoisted one of Phil's thighs up onto his shoulder. Then he found the lube and squeezed more out into his hand.

"You want any more prep?" Clint asked, looking down at Phil who still had his hands behind his head, which he shook. "I didn't think so. Tell me if it's too much." Phil nodded, knowing that if he tried to speak he'd just end up begging again. Clint slathered the lube onto his own hard cock and moved into position.

Phil felt the blunt nudge at his sore, sensitive entrance and whined behind clenched teeth. Without warning, Clint pushed in in one long smooth thrust. 

Phil wailed. "Don't stop. Please don't stop. Fuck. Yes. Fuck me, Clint. Fuck me hard. Please."

"Oh I will." Clint leaned in and shuffled his knees a little on the mattress, settling his weight. He picked up Phil's other leg and wrapped it around his own hip. "That okay?"

"Perfect." Phil managed not to beg this time. Clint's cock in him felt like it was on fire, and his ass clenched spasmodically around it, making Phil gasp at the mix of pleasure and pain.

"Good." Clint leaned forward, bending Phil on half and planting his strong hands on Phil's biceps, gripping hard, holding Phil down. "Good, because I'm going to fuck your brains out now," he said, and started to thrust in long powerful strokes that had Phil seeing stars.

Phil tried to keep his eyes open, tried to focus on the beautiful sight of Clint Barton above him, all skin and muscle and sweat; sparkling grey-green eyes and sandy blond hair; luscious mouth and powerful shoulders. But what Clint was doing to him, making him feel, was so overwhelming that he soon lost the battle and let his eyes slip closed.

He was safe. He was being held, pinned, and fucked by someone he knew and trusted and cared for and... loved. That was the difference, Phil realized, that was why this was different, more, better, than it had ever been before. Clint was his colleague, his partner, his friend. Someone he trusted with his life... and his heart. It wasn't hearts & flowers, moon in June, love. It was a quiet, solid certainly that Clint would be there for him, no matter what. 

Phil opened his eyes to find Clint's staring down into his, and he knew that everything was going to be fine. 

"Please," Phil whispered, not even sure what he was asking for.

"Come for me, Phil," Clint said, stroking into him, and Phil sighed and came, sinking into a deep warm blackness where everything was safe and soft and good. "Yeah, that's it," he heard Clint murmur. "Yeah." Clint's last word was also a soft sigh, and he shuddered through his own climax. 

Phil felt Clint moving, but he didn't open his eyes. The pressure in his ass and on his thighs disappeared, but Clint was touching him, stroking his cheek, making small sounds of comfort and reassurance.

"So good for me, Phil," Clint whispered, lying beside him and pulling the covers up over them both. "Open your eyes now, let me see that you're all right."

"I'm fine. I'm great." Phil smiled, opened his eyes, turned his head. Clint was smiling softly back at him. "Kiss me?"

Clint's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Phil's, then he pulled back again.

"Thank you. This means so much to me, Clint. You mean so much to me." Phil raised a hand to Clint's cheek, and Clint turned his head to kiss his palm. "Not just because of this. I've cared about you for a long time. Trusted you as a friend, as someone I could be myself with. That's why I came to you last night. I didn't expect this, but I knew, somehow, that you could help. That together, we..." a lump in his throat stopped his words.

"Together," Clint repeated softly, and reached up to cover Phil's hand with his. "I like the sound of that."

"Yes. I want... I want to make you happy, Clint. I want to give you what you need, whatever you need, too. Not as payment for this, but just because I care about you. Tell me what you want from me. From... us." Phil's voice trembled as he said that last word, but he had to. Had to know where they stood. They both needed that.

"I care about you and I trust you too, Phil. And I'll always give you what you need, when you need it. But I guess what I'd like most is for it not to be just that. For it to sometimes be just us, and not a, um, scene. I'd like just regular, fun, rough and tumble sex with you sometimes. I'd like that a lot."

"I'd like that too. Spending some of our mandatory post-mission downtime in bed with you would be amazing." Phil smiled up at Clint, who grinned back.

"Yeah, it would."

"And besides, it's not like I haven't thought about nailing your fantastic ass on occasion." Phil said, just to see Clint's eyes widen in surprise, then leer down at him. Then Clint's expression turned serious again.

"Um, so are we talking about a friends-with-benefits kind of thing, or a, uh," Clint actually blushed as he asked, "a, um, dating thing? I kinda need to know that before I let myself fall in love with you and get my heart broken. 'Cause when I have great sex with someone I like a lot, I pretty much always end up falling in love with them..."

"Oh, Clint." Phil's heart went out to Clint who'd lost so much so young. "Do you want us to date? I mean is that something you'd like?"

"I... kinda, I guess, yeah. I mean I never thought there was any chance, but sometimes I wished there was, you know?"

"Yes. I do know. I felt the same way about you."

"Really? But I'm just–"

"Loyal and trustworthy and compassionate and smart and funny and sexy," Phil said, then pulled Clint down and kissed him.

"Well, when you put it like that," Clint said when Phil let him up for air. They both laughed, and the last little bit of worry that Phil had been holding onto floated free. "Come on," Clint said, sitting up and grabbing Phil by the arm. "We are both in desperate need of a shower, and then you're taking me out to breakfast."

"Oh I am, am I?" Phil said, but he didn't actually mind at all.

"Yes, you are. And then we're going shopping."

"Shopping?"

"Yep. Over breakfast, you're going to tell me all about what you like having done to you, and then we're going shopping. Because I want to be properly prepared for next time."

"Sounds like a plan," Phil said, wondering if his ass would ever recover. "Sounds like an excellent plan."


End file.
